I've written here, for The Band to help work through both my failed marriage and my unemployment. Quite a bit has happened in the last few weeks - so much that I don't know where to start!

I'll start with the good stuff - I'm now employed! I've been officially offered employment with the local University. I was THRILLED.

Ready to celebrate my impending employment, I flew stateside to visit my family whom I hadn't seen in years. I was up-to-date on the current familial happenings, but (as I learned on my trip) knowing and seeing are VERY different.

My niece is an opioid addict.

My sister is struggling attempting to raise her granddaughter with little-to-no help from my niece, her mother. Child Protective Services is involved - my sister has filed for custody.

My niece, a compulsive liar, is simply...not there. Her affect is indescribable.

It's really disturbing that now, when asked a direct question, she just stares. Part of this is a sensory and auditory processing disorder - but most of it is the drugs.

My poor sister, who's trying so hard, is almost too over-protective of her granddaughter as her daughter, the mother, has no protective instincts whatsoever. During the limited time my niece was home, the two of them fought. Constantly. It was horrid.

I rarely have the Mama-Bear mentality; but I wanted to grab my sister and great-niece and drag them off to protect them both.

While Stateside, I managed to see my father for three meals. He loves to marry the intense-type. His current wife believes I'm the spawn of the Devil all because of a birthday card - a martini glass filled with ribbons - I sent four years ago.

That, according to my father's wife, implied that I thought she was an alcoholic. Clearly, that wasn't my intent.  As a result of that particular snafu, I'm unwelcome at my father's house. 

My own mother was the opposite - she didn't want me to leave her house. She's thankfully on an antidepressant which seems to be helping her to control things like screaming and crying if something doesn't go right.

Due to the stress I've been under, I've lost some weight over the last year. I look pretty damn good.  

My mother, upon seeing me, went on and on about my weight loss like it was a miracle I actually looked good. She'd say, "isn't it great your pants are too big?" and "here, eat some cake" on the same breath, causing the same confused feelings I've felt since I was young.

My poor, poor mother.  

She's shown me pictures of herself as a teenager - she was anorexic; you could see her skull through the skin. She stared at the picture, and asked, "Didn't I look great?' I had to reply, "No. You looked way too skinny."

The idea that anyone could look "too skinny" shocked the hell out of her.  

My mother is heaping praise on my stepsister who is now on a healthy diet - I'm happy for both of them, but I hate the horrifying truth. My mother doesn't like overweight people, so she didn't like my stepsister BECAUSE she was overweight. That makes me so sad.  

But, I dealt with all the crazy. I handled the drama. I was only overwhelmed a few times, so I called my friend for support.  

My friend, my person, my best friend in the whole world lied to me. He got blacked-out drunk and had sex with someone at a party. He told me that he'd only flirted with her.  

Keep in mind, he and I have an open relationship - we live very, very far apart.

Per our open relationship, we have only two damn rules - be honest and always call or text the other person BEFORE anything happens (to be allowed to veto the situation if needed.) If the other does not reply in a reasonable amount of time, permission is given by default.  

Not that hard, right?  

After a minor freakout about familial drama, he and I were joking about the woman he'd been flirting with. 

I giggled, teasing and said, "Ha ha, you almost slept her." Laughing, he replied, "I know! I felt so dirty that I had to shower afterward. At least I wore a condom."

SCREECHING HALT OF BRAIN: "What, WHAT, WHAT?!"

My mind could barely wrap around it.

You said you only flirted with her - lie.  

Then, you changed it to "made out with" - lie.  

You changed it again and again and again until eventually, you called her to ask if the two of you had had sex. If you were really blacked out, why did you remember to put on a condom? Then, you had the audacity to tell me how horrible that call to her was, how sad she was, and how stressed you were. The worst part: I WANTED TO COMFORT YOU.  

We've since talked and talked and talked. I'm grateful that he's now in treatment for alcohol abuse. He uses alcohol as a social crutch - he doesn't drink every day, but when he does drink, he drinks far past excess.  

Do I love him? Yes, of course I do. My first response was to call him to talk about the jackass who broke my heart. That's pretty hard to do when HE'S THE JACKASS.  

I'm incredibly scared. This person, someone I love, hurt me so badly that I couldn't breathe for ten minutes. Can wen reconcile? I'm trying - it's not easy.

Randomly, I'm filled with rage at his betrayal. I used to delight in hearing him say, "I love us." Now, when he says that, I hear nothing but lies. He didn't love us enough to be honest with me.

I have a wise friend who reminded me that some good came from the situation: he realized he had a problem with alcohol. Fair enough.

If he lies to me again, I'll wash my hands of him: no calls, no texts, no friendship, NADA.  

I was married to an addict for 10 years. I cannot put myself through that again.  

I just can't.

Slowly, carefully, softly, I'm moving forward. No worries, I'm carrying a big damn stick.